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Barn at the pond

Trees dappled in snow. In the distance a cottage stood. How I could reach her threshold? Time had forgotten this sacred place. The way was barred – or so it seemed.Another corner rounded, weather worn and blisteredrevealing a door that opened, but only to me.
EarlyFog

Sojourns

Journeys however insignificant, spark the mightiest of fires. Not long after my last thimble of coffee I set out with Marco. A small pad in my jacket just in case, but what I wanted in those early mornings is that smell. The evening smells reverberating back at me greeting the morning. The light mist that [...]